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by Mina1914
Summary: Francis and Arthur live together in Paris, as a married couple.  Just basically domestic FrUK drabble.


"No, no, no! That's the wrong brand!"

Arthur frowned with displeasure as he bumped Francis aside with his hip, reaching up to grab the right box of tea beside the one Francis was reaching for. He placed it on the counter before he shut the cabinet.

"Well _excusez-moi._", Francis said with a sharp tone as he sarcastically placed a hand over his heart, earning a scowl from his husband. Arthur sniffed, "Oh, shut up." Francis smiled lightly and patted Arthur's backside, "Now, now. No need to be hasty, it's only tea."

Arthur swatted his hand away, "Well, I prefer a specific brand. If you haven't realized that, then I have yet a reason to call you my husband." Francis continued to smile as he approached the fridge to open it and take out the milk.

"Scrambled?", Francis asked as he stuck his nose in the fridge to search for the eggs, locating it in the back behind the bag of grapes. "As always.", Arthur said as he took out a pair of matching teacups. Francis hummed as he grabbed the carton and pulled back to shut the fridge's door. He placed it on the counter as Arthur set the kettle on a burner.

As routine, this is how they started breakfast at eight in the morning. Both of them waking up by the irritating alarm clock and then taking separate showers (Francis always complained when Arthur hogged the hot water), before they got dressed. Francis would take longer for the morning; styling his hair, choosing the perfect outfit as if he was expecting guests. Arthur just rolled his eyes and threw on a pair of trousers and a plain dress shirt.

Whistling came from the kettle, Arthur hastily walking to the stove to turn it off and move the kettle onto a cool burner. Once he poured the hot water into their teacups, he placed a teabag in both. He stirred the water with a spoon, transforming the clear color into a light brown.

Another twenty minutes passed until Francis had finished the scrambled eggs, the toast, and the hand-sized pancakes. Something simple. Arthur was already sitting at the table, his teacup already half empty, his novel in hand.

Francis set the plate of pancakes down before he grabbed the eggs and toast, positioning them in the center. Once he added the jelly and two glasses of milk, he took a seat across from Arthur.

Arthur's eyes were fixed on the pages of his book, his teacup steaming in front of him. Once Francis cleared his throat, he lifted his eyes to the Frenchman before he apologized and bookmarked his place. He set his book aside and grabbed the perfectly made fruit parfait Francis had learned to make him every morning.

* * *

><p>It was a quick process of them washing the dishes together – Francis the washer, Arthur the dryer – and then they had the routine of sitting on the couch and watching airing of Arthur's favorite TV shows. Which were always British, (such as Doctor Who or Monty Python) but Francis didn't mind.<p>

And after that, they would stray apart to do their own activities. Francis would either read while taking a long, hot bath or go out on a walk. Sometimes, he would go grocery shopping or clothes shopping. And other times he would watch Arthur garden.

And that was all Arthur did. He would spend hours tending to his garden, after removing his wedding band to not get it filthy. His garden was made up of roses, lilies, rosemary, and irises. Francis would set up a garden chair a few meters away from Arthur to give him peace and room, and then bring out a little table to hold his book, and settle down to watch Arthur.

It was one specific, bright morning when Arthur was hunched over, his face marked with dirt, his brow sweaty, and his sleeves rolled up, when Francis strolled up with a cold water bottle in hand.

He crouched down beside his preoccupied partner, his eyes studying the rosemary Arthur was petting and watering as if it was his own child. He lifted his eyes to Arthur's concentrated expression, staring at his furrowed eyebrows and his light blonde, unkempt hair. Then, he unscrewed the cap to the water bottle and held it out for Arthur.

Arthur's attention finally diverted to Francis, his eyes glancing at him. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before he pulled off his gloves and took the water bottle with a murmur of thanks. Arthur pressed the tip of the water bottle to his lips and took a swig, before he let out a breathless exhale from the fresh taste of cool water meeting his parched mouth. Francis smiled.

"We should have kids.", he said as Arthur took another drink. Francis watched him as he lowered the water bottle and eyed him. He nodded, "What's this all of a sudden?"

Francis chuckled and sat on the grass, propping up on his arms. "I think it would do us both good."

"How so?"

"And I want kids."

Arthur smacked him lightly on the shoulder, "I asked 'how so'?" Francis lifted a hand to brush back Arthur's bangs from his sweaty forehead, a light smile on his lips. "I think it'll make the marriage more enjoyable.", he said as he stroked the top of Arthur's head. Arthur let it be, "What? You don't think this marriage is enjoyable?"

"Whoever said that? I am enjoying this marriage greatly. I said it could make it even _more_, yes?" Arthur huffed, "Don't phrase it so oddly, then." Francis waved a hand dismissively, "No matter, what do you think?"

"Of having kids?"

Francis nodded, "_Oui_." Arthur sighed and pushed off the ground with a grunt, standing and brushing himself off before he grabbed the water bottle and his gloves as well as his garden trowel. Francis stood as well, and watched as Arthur wiped his forehead off with a glove before he smiled tiredly.

"Well, I can't answer you right this very moment. I have to think about it.", he decided on saying. Francis nodded with a smile, glad he was considering it. Arthur then leaned in to peck him on the lips before he walked past him to the house.

"I'm tired and hot and I just want to lay down, can you make me tea?", Arthur had asked him once he had followed him into the house, setting his things down on the counter before he rolled down his sleeves. Francis nodded before he took out the kettle and filled it with water, then set it on a burner. He retrieved a teacup and it's matching saucer from the cabinet to set them down on the counter.

Arthur had washed his hands and wiped his face with his wet hands, sighing as he did so. Once he took off his shoes, he placed them in the coat closet beside the front door. He returned to the kitchen, seeing Francis fishing out the correct tea brand this time. He smiled and then walked up to him to press a kiss to the back of his head, earning a pleased hum from Francis.

The floorboards creaked beneath Arthur's feet as he climbed the steps to the second floor, making his way to their bedroom. Once he changed into the pair of sweatpants he always put on after gardening, he returned to the kitchen to see Francis stirring the tea.

Arthur thanked him before he took the cup and saucer, leaving the kitchen to walk back up the stairs to their bedroom. He set it on the nightstand, and then left to get his agenda and his folder of papers from his office.

Once situated on their bed, his legs crossed, his agenda opened in his lap, he took a drink from the tea. He heard the creak of the staircase, and then the footsteps of Francis as he walked into their bedroom, his novel and a glass of wine in his hands.

Francis joined him on the bed, sitting beside him, propping his back up on the headboard. He placed his novel on the nightstand on his side of the bed, to take a drink of his wine, letting out a pleased exhale. A quiet clink sounded as he set it down beside his novel. He turned to face Arthur, Arthur keeping his eyes on the pages of his agenda.

"Can I have a kiss?", Francis asked lightly, reaching up to brush Arthur's bangs back from out of his eyes. Arthur glanced at him and then set his agenda down before he leaned over, "Yes." He placed a hand on Francis' cheek before he pressed their lips together.

Francis kissed back until Arthur pulled away a few seconds later, Francis smiling lightly. Then, he grabbed his novel and opened it as Arthur went back to scanning his agenda.

A few minutes of silence passed them, the only sounds the rustling of turning pages, before Arthur cleared his throat.

"Ludwig and Feliciano are visiting tomorrow.", he said, earning a glance from Francis. "Oh?", Francis replied, returning his eyes to his book.

"Yes. It's for the papers of Wednesday's appointment."

"For the Scottish fold?"

"Mhm."

Francis nodded, "Should I prepare a meal?" Arthur reached over to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer to dig out a pen. "I suppose. Don't make it too extravagant. They're only dropping by for the papers, but I'm sure Feliciano wouldn't mind it.", Arthur said as he scribbled down his signature on a file.

"Alright.", Francis ended the conversation, turning another page to his novel.

* * *

><p>Two more hours passed of them sitting beside each other, until Francis' wine glass grew empty and Arthur's back began to ache. Arthur had shuffled his papers back in order and then slipped them into a folder, before he pushed off the bed with a grunt and returned the folder and his agenda to his office's desk.<p>

Francis had made his way down to the kitchen to clean the wine glass and return it to the cupboard, before he climbed the stairs and walked back into their bedroom to see Arthur rolling his shoulders and neck with an irritated expression.

Francis walked to his nightstand and slid his reading glasses of his nose to place them on his book. "Arthur, let me rub your back.", he offered, looking back at him. Arthur shook his head, "I'll just take a shower. But thank you nonetheless." Francis pressed his lips together and then sighed, "Don't let your back knot up like that, it's not good."

"I know it's not good.", Arthur replied before he walked into their bathroom and shut the door behind him. Francis bit on the inside of his cheek softly as he pulled his hair out of it's hairband, walking up to the mirror as he shook his hair out.

Francis had changed into a more leisurely attire – a sweater and a pair of sweatpants, as always – and gone downstairs into their living room to sit on the carpet in front of their TV and sort through their movies, waiting for Arthur to finish his shower. The light hum of running water repeated above Francis as he read the back of one of the movies Arthur had purchased without him knowing.

Then, once Francis had sorted the movies into different piles, a pile for 'Maybe', 'No', and 'Most likely' movies they would choose from (even though it was Francis' opinions on them), the water shut off. Francis heard footsteps above him as he gathered a few pillows and blankets onto the couch.

Five minutes later, he heard Arthur come down the stairs. Footsteps repeated through the kitchen into the living room, Francis glancing back over his shoulder to see Arthur walk up to him and sit down beside him on the carpet. His hair was damp, but not dripping, his forest green sleepwear now being worn.

As routine, Arthur went through the separate piles, murmuring a 'no' or a 'maybe' until he reached the last one, adding it to the 'no' pile. Francis sighed, but expected it.

"Alright, then. What are a few you'd be willing to watch in the maybes?", he said, slipping an arm around Arthur's waist. Arthur remained silent as he went through the maybe pile again, narrowing down the options.

Now only two movies remained. Arthur glanced up at him, "Which one do you want?" Francis nodded towards the one in his left hand. Arthur placed it astray from the other piled movies before he gathered the unwanted films and returned them to the cabinet below the TV.

After setting the movie up and scooting close together on the couch with the blankets around their waists, Francis pressed play.

Half way into the movie, they fell asleep. Arthur's hand draped over Francis' thighs, his head on his shoulder. Francis' arms were wrapped loosely around his husband.


End file.
